


Furisode

by peppermintquartz



Series: Dressing Up [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: All Felt Up, Hannibal has Feelings, M/M, Naughty feelings, Will dresses up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz





	1. Chapter 1

A week later became a fortnight later, thanks to a high-profile murder of a philanthropist in New York. Will should not have been involved, except the investigation dug up a collection of mummified fingers in the philanthropist's bedroom, and the lead investigator borrowed Will for his insights.

"In case it's for something... weird. You know?" Agent McTaggert said when she picked him up at the airport.

"I know," he said. He had met her three years ago, when she came in for a seminar. Smart, dogged agent, not too imaginative but persistent. He liked that she challenged him on the case studies that he used for the seminar.

However, his services had not been needed in the end. Two of the fingers were eventually traced to Japanese gangsters whose deaths matched the philanthropist's, and that case was then transferred to a different department entirely. Agent McTaggert, having flown Will out to New York, invited him to spend a few days in the city in her apartment. Since his classes were covered for a week - they hadn't known how long they needed him for at the time he was invited - Will decided to take a couple of days off to wander the Big Apple. Part of him felt guilty, and part of him resented the guilt. He deserved a short holiday.

*****

Hannibal had been very approving of his taking the unofficial time off, and promised to keep that a secret from Jack. "When are you coming home then?" he asked over the phone, his accent more pronounced than usual.

Will shrugged, and then remembered that the doctor could not see him shrug. "Wednesday morning. Then I'll laze around for one more day, go in to work on Thursday."

"I'd like you to come to dinner on Friday."

That reminded Will of that session where he and Hannibal talked about the... the outfit. His cheeks burned fiercely with the recollection. Already his scruff is back, so - He cut off his train of thought. "Yes. I'll be there."

"I look forward to seeing you."

"So, uh, what about..." Will's voice trailed off, hesitant. He wasn't certain what he wanted to ask in the first place.

Hannibal only said, "Goodnight, Will."

*****

New York was abound with boutiques both large and small. Will found himself staring at some truly outlandish clothes and wondering if people in Baltimore could ever dress that way. Many of New York's people were stylish, aggressively so, even if their styles were not to Will's preference. He did consider if the outfits would have impressed Hannibal, elicit a reaction as that one had done that day in the BAU. That genuine moment of surprise and that flash of desire. Or perhaps it hadn't been desire. Amusement?

But it had to have been desire, yearning, want. It had been, because their appointment after that was all but thrumming with that energy.

*****

On Tuesday, he found himself in a little boutique selling, of all things, East Asian antiques. He had a vague intention of purchasing something for Hannibal, but had no idea what would be suitable. He supposed something with an interesting provenance would suffice.

There was a collection of garments. High-collared _qipao_ hung side by side with Mao suits and Indian saris shared rack space with Vietnamese _ao dai_ , all too glamorous and elaborate for mere commoners. 

His gaze fell on a black long-sleeved kimono with colorful hand-embroidered flowers spanning the fabric from hem to sleeve. Gold thread outlined the petals, and there were small squares of gold in the garment itself. Even without looking at the price tag, he knew this was too much for an impulse buy. It looked regal, almost, and he wished-

His fingers brushed over the sleeve and he drew his hand back sharply, as though it was bitten. He took a picture of it and sent it to Hannibal, without any text.

He left the shop with an unnamed aching deep in his belly.

*****

By Friday, he had convinced himself that nothing was going to happen. Hannibal had not replied to his picture text. It was just a picture, nothing more.

Still, he shaved off his stubble and, impulsively, shaved his legs too. He felt naked as he put on his clothes, even under his coat. Naked and eager and afraid. That evening, he showed up at Hannibal's house and waited at the door, feeling as though he was about to jump off a ledge into a canyon.

"Welcome home," Hannibal said with a sparse smile.

Will froze. "What?"

"You are back among friends, Will. That is home for those of us without family," said Hannibal with a slight nod. The doctor took Will's coat and hung it up. "Come inside. I was inspired to prepare a meal from my past."

"What are we having?" Will followed Hannibal into the kitchen where he sat in the chair in the corner. There was a bookshelf, and Will noticed the picture of a dog in the frame. It was a detail from a painting that Will had a vague recollection of. 

Hannibal poured a cup of sake for him and set it on the side table, before stepping back, as though to observe an image he had just created. Then he smiled and returned to the prep table.

"Kaiseki. It's a multi-course dish, carefully prepared from seasonal ingredients. The term  _kai-seki_ literally translates to 'stone in the embrace', but _kai_ referred to a pocket in the sleeve. It was said that it stemmed from monks who used to tuck hot stones wrapped in cloth against their stomachs so they would not feel their hunger pangs too fiercely in the day. The cuisine began as simple vegetarian meals the monks prepared for their meals. Even in their food, they were careful to include an appreciation of nature."

"And you're including fish in a vegetarian meal," said Will, watching the doctor prepare thick slices of fish with keen precision.

"No longer is kaiseki purely vegetarian, Will," said Hannibal. "It is now very much like haute cuisine. Care is taken to balance ingredient, freshness, season, and presentation. Take a seat at the dining table, and I will serve us both shortly. We have only six courses today."

"Only six, he says," Will teased, to hide the panic fluttering under his diaphragm.

The faint amusement curling Hannibal's lips was response enough. Will took his usual seat - the one to the right of the head of the table - and took too large a sip of his rice wine.

He wished he knew what to expect.

*****

The six courses went by in a blur of delicate tastes and subtle flavors mingled with light conversation and far too much white wine. Sashimi was not one of Will's preferred dishes but he had little opposition to fresh fish eaten raw. Hannibal asked about Will's experience of New York and expressed a wistful desire to visit MoMA.

"I didn't have time to go," Will admitted. "I spent one day just wandering Central Park, and then the second day doing the usual tourist stuff."

The older man smiled. "Then we can go together someday." He cleared the last dish and brought out a small, rectangular platter for dessert. Three cubes of clear jelly with a small, pink flower suspended in each. It smelled of tea and something floral. The ceramic plate was ink-black and glossy, with faint gold flakes like stars embedded in the universe.

"This is-" Will swallowed. It reminded Will starkly of the photo he had taken of the kimono and sent to Hannibal without an explanation or elaboration. He felt suspended and ready to be devoured.

Hannibal sat down. "Homemade konnyaku jelly. I flavored it with my favorite green tea. Once we're done with dessert, I have something for you."

Something close to panic rose in Will's throat and made it hard to breathe. "Hannibal-"

"Will." The doctor's voice lowered as he covered his guest's hand with his own. "I have something for you. Finish your dessert."

 The jelly was firm and not sugary-sweet, and the taste of tea and flowers lingered over his tongue.

*****

Hannibal led Will to the study and offered him more sake. 

"I have to drive home," Will said, even as he sipped and savored the foreign flavor warming his palate.

"Have you now?" The outside corners of the doctor's eyes had crinkled before he disappeared, presumably to clear the table and to take whatever he intended to give to Will. Regardless of what it was, Will was determined to reject the gift politely and firmly. This was their - was it a date? Could they even have a date? He was not, strictly speaking, Hannibal's patient, but still.

His smooth legs brushed the inside of his pants.

His pulse leaped.

Hurriedly placing his sake on a nearby table, Will scrubbed at his face, and shivered when he remembered that he had shaved off his facial hair too. The tremor that began just below his diaphragm threatened to spill out. He chewed on his lower lip and tried to count the number of books on one shelf, and identify which titles he had read thus far. He had just found  _The Great Gatsby_ hidden between something in German and a copy of Voltaire in French when he heard Hannibal return.

In his arms was a fair-sized box.

"Before you say no," said Hannibal, "look at it."

He lifted the lid and took out a few layers of thin tissue paper, before revealing the treasure within to Will.

Will could not speak. He covered his mouth with both hands, as though frightened of the words that almost burst from his lips. 

Hannibal lifted it out of the box and let the magnificent garment spill like a river of ink, on which pink and gold blossoms floated. It was even more elaborately embroidered than the one Will had seen.

"A furisode," said Hannibal. "A formal kimono for an unmarried young woman. It belonged to my aunt and she had hoped to pass it on to the daughter of one of our family's acquaintances, but..." His voice trailed off. "Regardless, it has been in my possession for many years. I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful it was until you sent me that photograph, and reminded me of this jewel."

It was a jewel, no doubt, far too grand to be touched by Will. He was suddenly, keenly, _acutely_ aware of his simple background, his rough hands and coarse skin, his mind so soaked with death and dying that it probably exuded from his pores. Resentment against Hannibal flared for him showing off this treasure, and then shame and guilt, because hadn't Will been the one to provoke it? He had not needed to send a picture of that kimono. He had wanted something like this to happen, and now that Hannibal was making it come true, Will could not accept it.

"It's too..." Will bit the inside of his cheek at the whimper of want that clawed on the inside of his throat. He had no inclination to be dressing up in women's clothes, but he liked the way Hannibal had looked at him that one time, when Will was solidly grounded in the discomfort of his body and Hannibal was watching and appreciating every moment of it. "It's too grand. Too exquisite. I can't."

The doctor only smiled and set the kimono in the box. "Come here, Will."

"Hannibal-"

"Come here."

Will went to him.

Hannibal took both his hands and squeezed his fingers lightly. "Try it on, and then decide. I'm asking you to try, that is all."

"That's too much," Will repeated. 

"It's like a complicated bathrobe. Is that truly more distressing than a skirt and blouse?"

"But- the material. The history. It's so-" Will swallowed. "It's too much, Hannibal."

The doctor frowned faintly. Then he leaned in and whispered, "I wish to see you in it, Will. I want to see you wrapped in beauty. Won't you do it for me?"

The younger man swallowed again, because yes,  _yes_ he would do this for Hannibal, because Hannibal never asked anything of him. He guided Will through the murky and treacherous waters of his own mind; this was a repayment. This was Hannibal asking Will to repay a debt. Yes.

He must have said something, because Hannibal was murmuring, "Very good, Will. Please take off your clothes, and I will help you put that on."


	2. Chapter 2

Whenever they were alone, time became immaterial. It was just an everlasting  _now_ , filled with meaningful silence and stolen eye contact.

The silence was filled with heavy anticipation now. Will shed his shirt, shoes, pants, socks, in that order, and stood before Hannibal in his undershirt and boxer briefs. It should feel awkward; this was technically their first dinner date, after all, and there was something illicit about undressing in Hannibal's study. Instead, he watched Hannibal observing him. His expression was inscrutable, his eyes dark with an emotion that Will could not identify. The closest he could get to was  _hunger_ , but a hunger so contained and so specific that it was beyond Will's understanding. It should make him nervous.

It just makes him curious.

"If I asked you to take off the rest of your clothes, would you do it?" Hannibal asked suddenly.

Will bit his lip. His swallow did not go unnoticed.

The doctor smiled and cupped Will's jaw. "You can keep them on."

Even though he was still dressed, Will felt raw and exposed, not physically, but psychologically, as though the older man could read his mind through his body. Every nuance of motion could the key to open up the barricades to his mental space. Discomfort and distress flared through his body, again, grounding him in the moment.

For a few seconds, Hannibal looked Will over. His gaze skimmed over Will's rough feet, up his smooth legs, over his covered groin, and skated up to Will's shoulder. He tilted his head as though he could stare through the threadbare fabric and study the scar.

"Did they charge the man who hurt you?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah, but he should be free by now."

"You could have taken him down."

"I had difficulty pulling the trigger back then." Will's throat closed uncomfortably.

The doctor closed the distance between them to brush two fingers over Will's erratic pulse. He murmured, "I wish I could have seen you back then."

"Would you have found me interesting?" Will almost smiled, his eyes fluttering shut.

Hannibal hummed noncommittally. "I believe that the person I was back then would have been attracted to you back then. The person I am now would have courted you far more aggressively than I have done thus far."

The younger man could not really believe it, but there was no reason for Hannibal to lie. He was focused on the point of contact to the exclusion of almost all other sensation, save for Hannibal's tasteful cologne and the faint scent of sake.

"Now we put on the furisode. I will need you to stand here, and with your arms positioned - like -so."

"I feel like Barbie."

"I would certainly not put blue eyeshadow on you, Will, nor get you a pink Cadillac." Hannibal smiled his minimalist smile and went to get the kimono, a white garment and a staggering number of large wooden pins.

*****

The process was indeed very much like putting on a complicated bathrobe. 

Hannibal made Will put on an inner layer (" _nagajuban_ ", said the doctor as Will slipped it on) which was secured with a thin sash. Then he started draping and pinning, making Will hold the folded up sleeves as the furisode was adjusted to Hannibal's liking. The doctor's hands were precise as they handled the silk, tucking and shifting the collar until the garment was positioned properly with the left panel over the right. 

Hannibal walked behind Will and slid a firm hand along the younger man's spine. "A kimono is now considered formal attire when once it was daily wear," he said, not drawing attention to the full-body shiver that gesture had caused to ripple through Will. "Of course, something like this was meant for the upper classes, but even so, it wasn't relegated to ceremonies and special occasions."

"There are kimonos more formal than this?"

"Of course. What you're wearing now is meant for unmarried young women, as is evident from the colorful floral pattern. The longer the sleeves, the more formal. These are not floor-length yet." Hannibal tugged the back of the collar down a little further to display the nape of Will's neck. "And the ladies who serve in court would wear multi-layer kimonos of varying shades. Some have up to seven or nine layers, and each one as elaborately-embroidered as this."

The wide belt was another work of art. The belt (" _obi_ ", Hannibal said) was predominantly red and silver, picking up the shades from the flowers in the kimono. Hannibal secured it firmly, pulling it tight around Will, and created a complicated bow in the back that Will wished he could see. His torso was wrapped into a tube-like form, and movement would be restrained. Demure, even. He would not be able to walk as he usually did.

Once Hannibal was satisfied with the bow and made Will let go of the folded sleeves, he stepped away, looking over Will again as he had done earlier that evening, in the kitchen.

"I forgot to prepare tabi socks and zori, but the effect is right," he said with a warm smile. pleasure shining from his eyes.

Will exhaled heavily. The sake was loosening his tongue. "I feel like I'm pretending to be a geisha."

"That would take many years of training, but I can imagine it," Hannibal remarked absently. He moved close again, flattening his hand over the front of the thick belt and tracing the colorful collar up. "You'd paint your face and neck white, all the way to the back..." He turned Will around and pushed up his curls, murmuring, "leaving this part of the neck unpainted, almost in invitation."

The older man placed his lips to the top of Will's spine. It felt so good that Will was glad for the kimono's restrictive form; he would make terrible decisions if left to his own devices. Hannibal didn't stop mouthing at that spot though. He licked and nibbled at it, burying his face into Will's curls, although his hands remained placed lightly on his belted waist.

"I wish you could see how you look."

"You could take a picture."

"It won't suffice in capturing what I see, Will. You are so present now, right here, away from the shadows of your mind. You are alight with your soul."

It was so hard not to just turn around and kiss the older man silly. Will smiled, shy and discomfited. He was glad that Hannibal did not intend to take a photograph of him in this. This was... playing. This was just something to push Will's buttons, something for them both to explore in order for Will to understand himself better.

"You know a lot about... about kimonos, Hannibal," Will drawled, arching his neck for the doctor to kiss and suck lazily on. He was going to get hard soon if Hannibal kept that up, but given the difficulty of undoing the kimono, Will was probably not going to lose his virtue tonight. Probably. "Who taught you?"

"My aunt."

It was perhaps the tone - reverence and something  _else_ \- that cued Will in. Comprehension crashed over him like a bucket of ice water. He stiffened and then pulled away, nearly tripping when he swiveled about to stare at Hannibal, unseeing and all-seeing.

The older man appeared mildly bemused. "Will?"

_Hannibal as a younger man, dressing his aunt in her kimonos. His hands, his skilled and firm hands on her shoulders, her arms, her waist, tugging the collar down-_

"Was she much older than you?" he asked. That had not been the words he wanted to say.

He knew his expression had given him away, it had to, he was never good at hiding how he felt when pushed to extremes, and this whole experience was pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone.

Hannibal pressed his lips together. He knew what Will was getting at, but he did not mince his words. "Lady Murasaki was older than I was by not many years. She was very beautiful and precious to me."

"So this- this whole thing-" Will's skin prickled with a sudden loathing for what he was dressed in. Hannibal was not looking at him, had never been looking at him; he was looking at _her_ , this woman who owned the kimono and understood its significance, who knew Hannibal before he was a grown man, who probably wore the kimono like it was just daily wear instead of a costume too delicate and exquisite to be rough with... "Take it. Take it off me. Remove - I don't want-"

"Will, calm down-"

"No, I don't want to - Don't tell me to calm down. I am - I am calm. Just take it off me. Take it off. I don't - I am not... Is this amusing to you? To use me so you can picture her?" If tears stung Will's eyes, he made no acknowledgement of them. His fists clenched uselessly at his sides and he attempted to still his shaking body. "I want to get out of this now. Take it off me, or I swear I will rip at it and I don't care if it's worth thousands, Hannibal I don't fucking care-"

"Yes you do," said the doctor, easily catching hold of Will and embracing him. "I will help you take it off, but I need you to stop. Please, Will. Just hold still for a moment."

At the older man's plea, the anger that snapped wildly through Will like a taut cable suddenly cut dissipated. He breathed out and gasped for air. With a gentle push, he disengaged himself from Hannibal.

"I'll hold still. Now take it off."

Hannibal looked sad. "I wish you could see what I see," he said. He reached around Will's waist to undo the _obi_. His breath was warm and Will had to close his eyes as the doctor fiddled with the complicated knot without looking. Finally, Hannibal skated his hands around Will's torso and then cupped his jaw with one large palm. "Why won't you?"

"Why won't I what?"

"See what I saw."

"You saw someone you could use to invoke memories of the woman you love-"

"No. I want you to look, Will. Look through my eyes."

It would be easier to melt into smoke than to defy Hannibal's injunction. Will let the pendulum swing, and fell into the moment again.

*****

_The furisode is expensive but worthless, because there has been no one worthy of wearing it since Lady Murasaki._

_And yet, when Will Graham sent me that picture text, I can see him in it, dressed in fine silks and brocade, uncomfortably and completely himself._

_But when I have helped him into it, watched how he surrenders himself to my hands, how he gives himself over to the unknown and the potentially foolish..._

_When I see him looking back at me, wrapped in black silk and flowers, face flushed and hair badly in need of a barber, I forget her. I forget how she looked in it, because this man is what the furisode has needed. Its elegance and delicacy paired against a man unused to luxury. Against a man so used to the rough treatment of his mind and the ungentle environment he has placed himself it._

_This is what I have needed._

*****

Will's eyes fluttered open, his cheeks now stained with tears he had no recollection of shedding. "Hannibal, you..."

"Yes. I saw _you._ The furisode is pretty, my aunt was beautiful, and you - you are _sublime_." Hannibal bit his lower lip and moved closer. "I was first taught by her how to appreciate beauty in all things and you - you transcend my concept of beauty. You transcend _her_."

Will had no reply to that, except to grip Hannibal's lapels. The doctor dropped the  _obi_ and kissed Will deeply. His hand moved from Will's jaw to cupping the back of his head, while his other pulled Will's body flush against himself. Hurriedly, Will shrugged out of the kimono, fought free of the inner layer with its sash, and looped his arms about Hannibal's neck. The doctor in the meantime had struggled free of his jacket and waistcoat, dropping them carelessly to the floor. He was in the midst of removing his belt and Will helped him undo his fly to better feel his erection pressed against him.

They made it to the chaise longue in the study, and Will contented himself with being pinned under Hannibal as they rode out their desire for each other without undressing further. Will reached into the back of Hannibal's pants to grab that plush arse even as Hannibal took both of them in hand. They maintained eye contact, Will struggling not to avert his gaze, but as his pleasure crested he cried out hoarsely and twisted his head to the side, burying his face into the backrest of the chaise.

Hannibal latched on to the exposed juncture of neck and shoulder, sucking and licking fervently while Will shuddered out his release, tense and tight, and when Will's body slackened, Hannibal climaxed, soundlessly gasping into Will's skin. Will felt the heat of Hannibal's ejaculate over his lower abdomen and wished he had been able to see the poised doctor lose control. He kissed the side of Hannibal's head, tasting clean sweat and smelling a faint hint of jojoba in the doctor's hair. Hannibal grumbled something about doing laundry. Will laughed.

*****

He wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep. When he woke up, he was naked on the chaise longue, save for the black furisode draped over him like a blanket. He tugged it up to his chin and wondered where Hannibal had gone.

Within a minute he had his answer. Hannibal returned to the study, now in a black sleeping robe of his own, and Will's clothes, all folded and warm from the dryer.

"Hey," Will said. His smile was uncertain.

Hannibal leaned down to kiss him. "You were sleeping so well, I didn't want to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"Around one in the morning."

"I'll drive home in a bit." A brief exhalation of laughter escaped Will. "I shaved my legs, you know. Thought it'd be the short skirt."

"I saw. You're welcome to keep doing that if you want to." The teasing glint in Hannibal's eyes gave away his real preference. "You can stay in the guest room for tonight. I won't ask for more than what you want to give."

"Is this awkward?" Will gestured to himself and the furisode. He was referring to everything: their new relationship, his not sleeping in the master bedroom, himself.

The doctor considered Will for a heartbeat. The smile that bloomed over his face made Will feel light and happy. "Not at all."


End file.
